Simply Chaperoning
by Mystery of the Emblem
Summary: Lady Rhea asks Seteth to help chaperone the ball. He agrees with the intention of keeping an eye on Flayn. The evening does not go as expected. With romance in the air, Seteth's mind travels back to a time, long ago, when he was in love.


**I have been trying to avoid ideas for Three Houses until I get to play it. Seteth and Flayn, however, did not have to work hard at making me love them! It goes without saying that HUGE SPOILERS abound. I began to write this as soon as the idea came, though I've tweaked it a bit as information has come through playing the game. I also would not mind writing something akin to Flayn's mother keeping a diary and Seteth ultimately passing it onto her.**

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When he was asked if he would help chaperone the ball thrown for the students of the Officer's Academy, Seteth had agreed. He had remained calm on the outside, but inside he was jumping at the opportunity. He had had such a scare recently, nearly losing Flayn after some scoundrels had kidnapped her, and he wanted to keep an eye on her whenever the chance arose. His decision had come at her displeasure. He had allowed her to go to the dance, as she was now enrolled in the academy under their newest professor's care. She had been thrilled to go, but her excitement had deflated quickly when he told her he was going to chaperone. She had bemoaned that his presence would keep people from asking her to dance.

"I assure you, Flayn, that I will not stand in the way if any boy chooses to ask you to dance," he had promised her. She did not fully believe him, but she had ceased her complaints only after he added that he would not make his presence obvious.

What he did not realize was how sorrowful merely chaperoning would make him feel. He thought he would be able to sit back observe the students, be there to break up any trouble that might have stirred, and to keep a watchful eye on Flayn. Instead, Seteth found himself with his back against a wall where he could see most of the ballroom, a glass of wine in his hand that he had been holding for over a half hour that he had hardly sipped from, as memories of long, long ago flooded back to him.

Why had he not even considered that a dance would bring up such memories? It was a fun, happy occasion, rife with crushes and romance between the students. No doubt some would sneak kisses on the dance floor while others might do such after slipping away for some privacy. He also would not have been surprised if some students wound up getting a little handsy that evening. They were teenagers. It would not matter that they were in a monastery, young love would win.

He knew how it felt; after all, he had been very much in love once.

He released a nearly inaudible sigh and shut his eyes. Despite the amount of time that had passed, he remembered every little detail about his wife.

Her thick, pale hair that fell to her waist unless she had it pulled back. Her eyes had been large, expressive, framed by full lashes, and they often had a sparkle to them, especially if she was up to something. She was sweet and kind, a loving woman who brought happiness to those around her, though she was also a bit mischievous and certainly playful. Her nose would crinkle as she laughed; her laughter had always brought a smile to his own lips. She was not a short woman by any means, but she still had to stand on her toes to kiss him.

She had been fond of a floral perfume, one she concocted herself, and if he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could sometimes bring the memory of the scent back to himself. He had once kept a bottle in his procession, but it had been lost ages ago.

But it was not her scent or looks that he missed. He missed everything about her. He missed seeking her out for advice or just having her there to listen to him. She had a way about her that said that she was always on his side, even if they did not see eye to eye on things. He longed for the companionship she offered him. He missed the warmth of her body next to him in bed, even if some mornings he would wake up with her half draped over him, an arm over his chest, a leg over his waist, or sometimes both. She had completed him.

They had met in Enbarr long ago, in a church of all places. It had been love at first sight, with neither wanting to leave the other from the moment they met. Their wedding had been a simple and quick event, coming shortly after they met. They had not wanted anything huge or elaborate. After the wedding, they had settled down in a small, cozy home, large enough to have space for friends to visit but small enough for their own comfort.

As husband and wife, they were not entirely inseparable. Every now and then, someone would request his presence or aid in battle. She would join him occasionally, often after long debates on whether or not she should go. She had been a skilled fighter in her own right, but he found himself fretting each time they fought side by side. She also had a gift of tricking him into sparring with her, though he never quite worked out how they would be talking one moment and kicking up dirt or sand as they sparred the next.

Their favorite way to pass the time together, however, was fishing. Fishing had been a passion of hers. She taught him techniques and tricks that he never had considered. Sometimes, she would wait hours for just the right fish to come along, never tiring or growing impatient. They would sit by each other on a dock or take a boat onto the water and enjoy each other's company while they caught their evening meal. He would sit by her and leave the fishing to her from time to time. He would take a book he was working on. The only sound between them came from the _skrtich skritch _of his quill. She would nearly always cook, though when he offered to help, she was eager to accept it. Anything that allowed them time together made her happy.

Their lives had fallen in a routine that rarely changed, no matter who called upon them. One day, however, he had arrived home with word that they would depart on the morning. He was needed in Zanado. "I do not think I should go with you," she said sheepishly, looking away from him. "I do not feel so well. It may be best if I stayed here."

"What?" He crossed the room and gently cupped her chin in his hand. Carefully, softly, he coaxed her into looking at him. "Why would you not want to join us?"

"My dearest Cichol, I..." she paused to take a deep breath, "I am pregnant."

He stood still for a moment, shocked as he took in her words. Then he grinned and embraced her, lifting her off her feet. "Then I shall stay with you," he told her.

She cupped his face in her hands and shook her head no. "You cannot stay. I am sure you are needed more there than here," she told him. "I will be fine by myself."

He cradled her face in his hands, their noses touching. "Then I will return as soon as possible," he vowed.

The feeling of a hand on his arm brought Seteth crashing back into the ballroom of the Officers Academy. He blinked several times as he found himself facing Manuela, one of the teachers at the school. "_There _you are! I have been asking you something for several minutes."

"My apologies, Manuela," he said sincerely. "I have just been thinking."

"Oh? It must have been something wonderful to cause you to ignore me." She smiled as sweetly as she could and inclined her head to the dance floor. "I have been asking you to dance! I did not expect you here, but now that you are, how about we show the kids how it's done?"

"Ah. I must decline, Manuela. I told Lady Rhea I would be pleased to chaperone, and that is the only reason I am here." He also knew Flayn would be displeased to see him on the dance floor. It would make him much more noticeable. He had enough skill to not shame her.

He had tried to teach his precious wife to dance. It had not gone well. Despite her grace on the battlefield, she stumbled over herself when it came to dancing. She would try, for him, but his attempts almost always ended with him catching her as she stumbled. "I am sorry, my love, but I do not think dancing is for me," she had said one night, her cheeks flushed as she laughed at herself. It had been the end of his efforts to teach her to dance.

Manuela's features twisted into a pout for the briefest of moments, then her smile returned to her face as she gave his arm a squeeze and tipped a wink in his direction. "Well, if you change your mind, just come and find me!"

Seteth had to wonder how long his thoughts had him grounded in the past. How much time had slipped by? And Flayn, how was she? He skimmed the dance floor, looking for a hint of green hair. Their rare hair color had made her easy to find, even in a crowd. It took little time to spot her on the dance floor with a young man. She was facing away from him, but as they slowly spun across the floor, the boy turned her so he could see her face.

Or he would have seen her face if she were not looking at her feet instead of the boy who had asked her to dance. Not only that, but he could see her lips and knew, even from across the room, she was mouthing the steps she needed to take. He raised his drink to his lips again, this time to hide the smile that the sight of his daughter had brought him.

Seteth stared at the ceiling and sighed again. He would give nearly anything he had to go back to the lazy days of fishing and the nights filled with her laughter as she caught herself on the hem of her skirts when he twirled her across the floor of their home. He would even love to go back to the terrifying early days of her pregnancy. Morning sickness had often left his beloved wife ill, unable to hold down anything but the thinnest of broths. He spent those long, worrisome nights in a chair by their bed, occasionally dozing, waiting to be there for her should she awaken and need him.

Those long days had been some of the most worrisome of their relationship, but her morning sickness did pass. It took too long for his liking, but he had been so thrilled when she asked if they could go for a short walk one morning and assured him she felt up to it.

The rest of her pregnancy had gone fairly well. Sleepless nights over worrying about her became nights where his wife would try to slip out of bed to keep from waking him. "I cannot sleep," she would often tell him, "and I do not want to keep you awake, too."

"What is it?" he would ask.

She would smile and place her hand on her growing belly. "I may be tired, but someone else is not."

More often than not, he could coax her back to bed. The two of them would lay together, both wide awake, each touching her stomach. What started off as faint little flutters grew into the sharpest of kicks as the months passed. Sometimes, however, his wife would shake her head, assure him one of them needed sleep, and would leave the room to try to find something that would keep her busy such as reading, writing in her diary, or repairing her fishing rods. Some mornings she would not be in the house. She would slip outside to look at the night sky when she could not sleep and would finally drift off under the stars.

She had confided in him one sleepless night that she was afraid to give birth. "I will be right by your side," he assured her. He, along with a midwife, had been the ones there for her as she delivered their daughter. How she had wept as she held Cethleann for the first time! "She is perfect, Cichol," she had choked through her tears.

"She is," he agreed as he lightly brushed a finger along their newborn daughter's cheek.

Their happy family of three had enjoyed many long years together. Some had been challenging while others were peaceful. Cethleann and her mother would often depart on trips to the sea when Cethleann grew older. She had inherited her mother's love of both the water and fishing. He would accompany them if asked, though he knew the trips were a way for the two of them to spend time together. He adored his daughter, and had his own moments to bond with her, but even he would not stand between mother and daughter. There was a bond between them that he could never understand, but he would allow it to flourish.

It had been foolish of him, he now knew, to expect their lives to remain blissful. He had never expected to lose the love of his life as suddenly and horrifically as he did.

Conflicts had arisen, which lead to battles. He and his wife had fought alongside each other before. It was nothing new to them. The issue that had risen had been Cethleann. He had trained her in lances, as she had shown quite the interest in them, and she had also shown some skill in the magic arts. Their army was small compared to the enemy's, and so he had felt they needed everyone they could get. He had made the difficult decision to allow Cethleann on the field of battle for that very reason. It had not been easy. He knew Cethleann. There were little places she could hide, and even if she found a safe place, she would not stay put. If she feared for the safety of her parents, she would try to defend them whether or not she was allowed to join the battle.

Her mother had waited until their daughter was out of earshot before she whispered, "She is not ready for this!"

"I know," he said sorrowfully, "but we have no choice. We need every fighting person we can find."

His wife had turned from him and looked to their daughter. She shook her head and sighed. "I will do my best to stay at her side."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear to make sure no one overheard. "Do not worry yourself about me. If you feel the battle is going south, take Cethleann and run." She nodded, unable to speak due to a lump that had risen in her throat. He had squeezed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before he left to talk strategy with the others who would take command.

It had been the last time he saw her alive.

He closed his eyes and shook his head in order to once again pull himself out of the past and back into the Officer's Academy ballroom. He could not bring himself to think of the moments after that battle. It was not something he would want to think of in such a setting. He was ready to leave and return to the solitude of his office. Where was Flayn? He looked to where he had last spotted her but did not see her.

What he did see was that the dance had started to wind down. There were only a few couples still dancing. The room was emptier than it had been. He found Flayn talking to a few of her peers. He slowly made his way to her, leaving his hardly-touched glass of wine on a table as he did. She saw him before he could speak to her.

"Brother! I was just telling my fellow students good night." She smiled at him, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes sparkling with joy.

He managed to return a smile for her and ignored the looks of fear from the few boys in her group of companions. "I see you and I are of the same mind, Flayn. It is growing late."

He allowed her to say her good nights and even returned a few when the students bade him a good night as well. The two of them, brother and sister to the members of the academy, did not speak to each other until they were well enough away from the ballroom.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Flayn?" he asked quietly.

"You shocked me tonight, Brother," she said at the same time.

They stopped walking and turned to stare at each other. After a brief pause in which neither was willing to speak in case they talked over the other, Seteth gestured for her to continue.

Flayn clasped her hands together in front of her dress and began to turn a little from side to side. She looked down at her hands then back up to him. "I expected you to be overbearing tonight, and you were not. For that, I apologize. I thought each time a boy asked me to dance, you would be on the dance floor, holding him up by his collar and demanding to know his intentions." She exhaled slowly and added, "It felt as if you were not even in the room, though I could clearly see you."

"Truthfully, Flayn, I feel as though I were not there, either."

She inclined her head to the side and asked, "What do you mean?"

"My mind was elsewhere for most of the evening. I was thinking of someone..." he trailed off as he realized what he was saying. He shook his head once more as if to clear any lingering memories. "We should probably retire for the evening. I am sure you are exhausted from all that dancing."

Flayn made no effort to follow him back to their rooms. She glanced around then took a few hurried steps to his side. Seteth was shocked, but pleased, to feel her slip her small hand into his. "Mother?" she whispered. She saw his shocked expression and rushed to add, "No one is around. You were thinking of her, were you not?"

"I was," he admitted. He applied a bit of pressure to Flayn's hand, the faintest of squeezes, before he released it. The gesture had warmed his heart and lifted his spirits greatly. "She would not have enjoyed such an event, yet she was on my mind all evening."

Flayn smiled at him, though tears started to form in her eyes. "No," she agreed, "she would not have enjoyed attending a ball, but I feel she would love the fact that she was on your mind tonight. Had you told me you were thinking of her, we could have retired early."

Seteth shook his head no. "You wanted to enjoy yourself and mingle with your fellow students. I could not take that from you." He smiled at her as well and added, "Even though when I did see you, you were watching your own feet."

She opened her mouth to respond then quickly shut it, her cheeks burning a bright pink.

"It was your first dance," he murmured reassuringly, "do not be embarrassed." He would spare her his thoughts on how precious it was to keep from embarrassing her further. He inclined his head towards their quarters again. He did not want anyone overhearing their conversation. Masquerading as brother and sister was vital to their safety.

He saw her give her head a small shake. "Are you going to your office?"

"I am," he admitted.

"Then I shall go with you!"

It was difficult not to chuckle. Seteth knew how the night would go. Flayn would curl up in one of the chairs in his office, and she would talk a while as he worked. She might even feel bold and ask him to talk about her mother. Then he would realize how quiet the room became, look up, and see her fast asleep in the chair. After he worked long enough to feel fatigued, he would carry her to her bed. It had happened before, though deep down he knew it would not happen much longer.

For the night, though, he would enjoy her presence and eager talk about the dance. It would serve as a wonderful distraction. Until she nodded off, her excitement would keep his sorrowful mood at bay.


End file.
